The blades of vengeances have fallen swiftly. The shinobi are no more as 'Absolute Justice' has returned...now, it is the Samurai that rule the Five Major Nations!
But at what cost? Have they become the very thing that they despised the most...? Heroes and villains seem to change roles every day, but one thing is for certain - we yearn for our freedom, for days gone by where we flew the skies unhindered.
"The bridge that leads to ANCHOR-9's Command Center is its only entrance, as well as the only means of salvation against the torrential constant whirlpool of sand and destructive winds that fester all around. You see, this prison was built in one of Kaze no Kuni's most intense sandy regions. Obviously, this was done to prevent escapees from getting far, and intruders at bay due to nature. It worked. No one ever ran. No one ever forced their way in."
"It's got one more nasty trick. The Eater. Like a troll under a bridge, The Eater protects its territory well, and should all else fail should an attack on the facility take place, The Eater will act as the final guard - and it always is. No one save the Samurai have seen it. Why? Because the dead don't tell tales. Seeing The Eater is acknowledging your life is forfeit."
"But even The Eater has to sleep. And when it does, we'll hit that bridge hard. That's how we're breaking in..."
"...that's how we're bringing this motherfucker DOWN."
IIC: 48 Hours / Posting order to be determined upon entry. Please adhere to it and make things as smooth as possible! At this stage in the event, turn by turn staff moderation is not ideal!
Prerequisites?: Those that took the Newcomer's Package can start here, as well as new players regardless. Additionally, you MUST track your chakra use at ALL times! This means that in each post that you use chakra, you must state how much you used and how much you'd have left. If doubtful, don't forget to check the CHAKRA GUIDE!
Rules: Stats and items locked upon entry; progression during this event will not kick in until after exiting this thread! Stick to the posting order, AT ALL TIMES. Missing an IIC means your turn is skipped, and you cannot post again until it is your turn in the next posting cycle. Violating this will get you kicked from the event. Death?: Disabled
The Bridge is the main access to ANCHOR-9, and the only safe way in and out of the prison. It is obviously also one of the most well-guarded parts of the facility. The Bridge itself is 75 meters long and 15 meters wide, comprised of the hardest metals available. Security cameras litter the bridge, and patrols exist at all times. ANCHOR-9 itself was purposefully built in a desert of whirlpools, all strong enough to suck unsuspecting travelers up, hence the needed for the bridge, as well as the three-pronged drill-type design for the prison. On of this, high winds exist at all times, and make footing quite difficult.
It is the afternoon. The sun is not incredibly high, but bight nonetheless. It is hot. The bridge entrance can be located at the end of a rough cliff, of the few earthen constructs in the area before a sea of sand took over. The cliff area is large, but for the sake of this event, will be roughly 25 meters in diameter, and is where the first Shinobi vs. Samurai skirmish begins.
Objectives: Newbies, you will begin this portion of the event after receiving an odd duress call from an unknown source that ultimately lead to the Bridge's entrance. As you arrive on the scene, a heater battle between Samurai and what appear to be Shinobi is taking place. You immediately have two choices to make - aid the Samurai in fighting back the Shinobi, or help the Shinobi push through the bridge and help break in. Depending on who does what, certain NPC's will be activated to help you move along across the bridge and eventually into the Command Center of ANCHOR-9.
You have full equipment and chakra as you enter batte. The call that got you hear hasn't been confirmed. Despite its broken nature, it's beckoned you here, and asked that you help "liberate" someone from within.
This is the first phase of the event. Everyone that posts here has five (5) turns, not including the intro post, to attempt to assist either side during the skirmish by the bridge entrance. You cannot progress across the bridge until this skirmish is ended. You each must RP out facing opposition. Your battle must include at least one Samurai or Shinobi, whose stats are equal to a Genin Taijutsu specialist (that is if you choose to battle a Samurai; when fighting shinobi, you can pick any specialty). They have basic, 'C' ranked equipment and armor.
Once your five turns are done, await judgement. Depending on post quality and content, you may or may not move on. There is no need for staff turn-by-turn moderation just yet. Consider this a test. Show us your skill. Prove your worthy to move on to the next step.
Post by forbidden-one on Nov 27, 2015 20:42:15 GMT -8
“This is stupid,” I would say as I ventured through the deserts of the Wind Country, searching for ANCHOR-9, a prison which holds some of the most notorious shinobi in history. Normally, I wouldn’t have agreed to something so stupid, but this would allow me to exact revenge upon the samurai and potentially free some old comrades. The desert wasn’t a nice place for a Hozuki like myself, it was hot and required me to keep myself hydrated for the long journey I had embarked myself on.
I carried a bottle of water that I could easily refill by simply using the Kuchiyose technique to summon more water into it, so that it wouldn’t run out for any foreseeable time. The garb I had worn was designed to protect me from the heat of the sun and the crazy sandstorm of the Wind Country. It didn’t take long for me to reach the ‘bridge,’ and when I first set my sights upon it, I had taken in just how large this contraption was.
It was intimidating to say the least, but I came here to complete a job, and I wasn’t leaving until it was a sound success. Upon the ‘bridge’ I scouted the area for anyone else before I continued on with my advance, surely I wasn’t alone in this place. x2 Massives
Walking on waves of ash, weathering the malevolence palpable everywhere, I touched despondency gentle. Not land nor ocean, but an ocean of land; it was matter shattered into solid fluidity, boundless in range, infinitesimal in composition. We were surrounded. An alien atmosphere covered and cascaded. The gales clawed at our garb, and whispered lurid tales through our midst. It smelled like the sun seduced by despair.
This was an unwilling land, and unfeeling, and a nefarious intent was everywhere evinced by the heat and the hollow. We passed a hundred signs entreating our caution, and a thousand more denying hope. The sand too spoke, but of a different message, welcoming our sinking steps, wiling energy away, comforting us into a warm death. It lured, and it enchanted, and some walked away into the blurry horizon never to return. We passed them, too, scuttling beyond the skeleton hands that reached from underneath. I wondered how many lie down deep beneath the soot, taking the scorching crumble for their coffin. Whatever. We were just as unrelenting, and infinitely more cold; submission was an inconceivability.
Our company, a triumvirate of blade, fur, and staff, yearned for what was to come. It came first in a fleeting susurration, travelling shivers through spines, and flooding minds in rapture. We were assuredly not in Kaze no Kuni without due call. It swore revenge. Lofty ideals found sanctuary in it. We were promised what fluttered now within us each. And we had come to enact it. The thing lived on our fingertips, along our tongues, across our weaponry, and within our spirits. Their death. Their end.
“I feel the sun everywhere,” the voice of a quaint youth rang.
“We’re close,” I replied, as the whirring gradually escalated in temper, and layers of sand danced in unison.
It could be felt before anything else. The air took on a sinister quality, filling itself with deeper dread. We trudged along the apex of our final dune before the Sending, like straddling the spine of some ancient, titanic creature. Endless undulation gave way to a contiguity of maelstroms in our forward continuing, tracing spirals in the sand and signaling errancy’s demise. It importuned questioning, though we weren’t to afford it its due. Our thoughts were elsewhere, and soon would be our stepping, as giving sand was usurped by hardened, taupe rock. An ever-familiar disharmony dinned up ahead. I smelled blood. And so we began.
Post by Itō Ittōsai on Nov 29, 2015 10:24:27 GMT -8
A veil of debris and sand flowed, forming a wave, crashing downwards. Upon its crashing, sand sporadically sprung out in different directions, a la the shrapnel from a grenade. Amongst the bolts of sand and bugs being flung, a humanoid figure emerged, an arm held over its head. "Wahaha, the desert sure does know how to give a challenge!" A soft spoken airy voice said whilst brushing its self down, patting the sand out if its hair. As the sand cleared, it would be apparent it was the shinobi, Itō. Black stringy hair fell over his headband, as his formerly grey attire found itself stained in the natural brown of Kaze no Kuni. With loose and unrefined movements, Itō galavanted throughout the swarm of sand, as if it were some sort of gravitational force pushing him away from what he was approaching.
Momentarily, the sand that flowed through the air parted, revealing a large silhouette of a tower not too far off into the distance. His interest had been more than piqued. "They did say the red tower where the sand flows ferociously would be the challenge. A test of strength has always sounded goooooood" The allure of blade to blade, clashing with the alleged swordsmen of the red tower, he knew not their strength or if they'd be anything more than a stain on his katana, but he had always searched for someone, something to push him into the upper echelon of strength and he prayed this would be it. Finally he arrived to the entrance of the bride, only to see a large clash of men in armor and men with headbands. No one would notice if I killed a shinobi or samurai, would they? a crooked smile emerged. His tongue traced its way across his lips. With a dash forwards, the battle really started.
OOC: Entry to this thread is now restricted. Those wishing to join in must PM me first and await confirmation before posting.
Posting Order :
"The Samurai standing guard at the Bridge stood no chance. And they knew it. The looks on their faces screamed of disbelief - how did they know The Eater had gone down towards the hole for feasting!? Was it a mole? Or were the shinobi's powers returning...? None of the Samurai could figure it out, but for now, they knew only one thing - survival. The initial guard at the entrance to the bridge were quickly defeated as a unknown man lead a band of killers that plowed right through. It was a nasty sight. The Samurai stood no chance."
"Now, as you arrive, reinforcements of a greater cause you still remained ignorant, you are faced with several options. Do you attempt to stop this madness and side with your masters, the Samurai? They were losing badly at the moment, so that might not be a good idea...but if you do help them, who know what they'd give you..."
"...however, follow the main Shinobi attacker ahead and his group, and wondrous things await. He's much too far to be caught up now; a swarm of guards have poured onto the bridge, filling in the gap between the stranger and yourself. At this point, you're at the base of the bridge and he's near the end, with Samurai littered in between. Should you wish to aid him, then you must fight your way across the bridge!"
"As stated before, you have five turns to fight your way across the bridge, either killing Shinobi or Samurai. Use the dimensions from my previous post as a basic setting. Observe the IIC. These NPC are Genin, and not special. No staff modding is required. Do your best to fight across and impress with good writing. If everything looks good, the story shall be progressed and you'll be one step closer to the Command Center!'"
A week into their journey, the world was reduced to sand and sun. There was no reprieve from the heat, beating down from above in almost palpable waves, but loose long-sleeved clothes and face-wraps kept the worst of the sand at bay and kept the fiery ball from scorching their skin. For the longest, the horizon was little more than a wavering haze of heat set between a sea of golden grain and a blank sky tinted gold by the sun. And then suddenly, there it was.
Anchor-9, wrought from steel the color of blood. Samanosuke wondered who'd decided to make it that color.
"Wish your mom could'a come for this," Mai said, dragging her sword, still sheathed, in the sand behind her. She'd left a trail for miles. "We won't be able to get passed the Eater alone."
"We won't be alone," Samanosuke returned. His kimono and face-wrap were both the color of sand. Not a sliver of skin showed, and small goggles covered his eyes. He'd still somehow managed to get sand in his underwear, though. "Others will come."
"Yeah? Well where are they? Not like there's a lot of places to hide around here. We'd have seen them at some point."
Samanosuke said nothing for a long while, partly out of annoyance, but mostly because he didn't really feel like talking - there was something soothing about the sound of the wind as it swept across the dunes, something calming in the complete emptiness of the locale. No matter what technology the samurai created, no matter their cities and trains and airships, the desert would always remain untamed, vast and empty and wild.
"Have faith, Mai. Pray, if you must."
They heard sounds of battle as they grew nearer. Screams of pain, grunts of exertion, the ringing clang of steel striking steel. Samanosuke could almost taste the chakra and blood in the air.
"See? Others have already arrived."
"Yeah, yeah," Mai said, lifting her sword to rest on her shoulder. "You were right, I was wrong. What else is new."
He gave her a brief, cheeky grin, and then all trace of humor left him. He noticed others just joining the fray ahead. He hoped they were fellow shinobi, but he was prepared otherwise."We're essentially going into this blind. Preserve as much chakra as you can. Show no mercy."
"Tell me something I don't know, koibito."
He blushed; they were much too young for such talk. Or he was - he figured ten was plenty old enough for gross things like kissing and holding hands.
Together, shinobi and kunoichi moved to the bridge.
Post by forbidden-one on Dec 2, 2015 9:47:14 GMT -8
Upon arriving to the ‘bridge’ and scouting the area, I had seen a group that had been far ahead, marching toward the entrance at a great pace. Unfortunately, they had been too far ahead for me to catch up with so easily, and on top of that, Samurai begun to flood the bridge as well. I sighed heavily before attempting to count just how many of the Samurai would stand before me and the path I wished to travel. “Hey, Samurai-ya, why don’t you all just stand down and let me pass. I’m not really suited for fighting in this type of environment.”
I said as I would form a short series of signs quickly, the Samurai slowly begun to ease toward me. I thought that if I were to go back on my word and flee now, I could probably escape with my life, but it probably wouldn’t be any fun. Right before the Samurai, my body would become transparent, and while invisible, I would dash toward the Samurai with brilliant speed, withdrawing my Uchigatana and begun attempting to assassinate the Samurai before me. Having studied the Samurai armor for so long from a distance and up close, I had known all of the weak points in the armor, and it was there I would strike with unprecedented aggression. Meisai Gakure no Jutsu - High x2 Massives - x1 High = x1 Massive, x3 Highs
Post by Itō Ittōsai on Dec 3, 2015 16:43:58 GMT -8
Battle brought about a hunger within Itō, one that dwelled deep inside of him, whether it was ingrained in his soul, conscience, mind, it didn't matter; feeding the insatiable hunger was the priority. Itō's vision became skewed, the samurai armour faded, the shinobi headbands melted into their owners. All that was left was dark figures. Itō's mind collapsed in upon itself, his eyes rolled into his head, instincts and primal emotions overwhelmed. From his sheathe came his blade, the grip was unorthodox but it was one Itō commonly used, it was his natural grip. His stance shifted from his southpaw-like standard to an incomprehensible arrangement of feet. With a dash forward, he struck. Swinging his blade from the right of his waist to the thigh of his inky foe. Purposefully he slowed his attack, made it weaker, he wanted to draw out the abilities of his foe. Itō heard no sound, saw no blade, but he felt it. He felt the aura of another bladesman. He felt the oh-so well known sensation of iron upon iron.
Gradually, the landscape morphed from the sandy dunes and red tower that once was, now only dusk covered the landscape in Itō's eyes. A morbid grin that stretched from ear to ear ripped its way onto Itō's face. "I'm sorry, I know I sHouLDn't PLay WITh MyYYyY FooooOOOOD", Itō's eerie, croaking voice rung out in a horrowing manner. His tone shifted violently in the latter part of his macabre statement. He began to swing more and more, with only his right hand, specifically aiming for places the foe could block. With each clashing of blades, Itō allowed himself to get quicker, quicker and quicker, each strike with more viciousness than the last. It was clear his foe was being pressured, in a move of desperation, the figure swung recklessly towards Itō's jugular. In one dipping motion, Itō evaded the attack and rose upwards. Itō's blade rose with him, a chaotic and crazed swing followed, Itō had found the tip of his katana making a light flesh wound. Rather than decapitating the foe, Itō pulled backwards, his smirk becoming more crooked and deranged. "YouR ToRMENt Has Just beGUN."
200 ch my boy hilde got exams n said to just skip him this turn.
The bridge was packed with samurai, and the wind whipped overhead, constant and loud, billowing his kimono There were signs that a great number of samurai had already died - blood splattered over the walls, dead bodies lying haphazardly atop one another, drenched in blood. The assault had come already; the were late. Mai noticed the other shinobi present engage the gathered samurai - in a calmer time, Samanosuke would seek them out to discuss strategy, how best to move forward, but there was too much going on, to many voices shouting, to many swords flashing. There was only time to react.
"Remember," he began. "Conserve chakra. He reached into his garments and pulled out a fist full of exploding notes - five in all. He tossed them into the air as if feathers; Mai exhaled a powerful gust of wind that carried the notes down the bridge and off-balanced a number of the samurai. When the slips of paper had fluttered among their foes, young Samanosuke counted silently down from four. At zero -
The five tags exploded, one by one as if on a schedule. The noise was deafening, and smoke and heat wafted thick in the air. In the brief reprieve after the tags exploded, while the smoke was still too thick to see, Samanosuke and Mai henged to appear as samurai, down to the funky metal boots. There were just too many samurai to fight them fairly.But fighting dirty? Samanosuke could do that. Mai reasoned that there was no other way to fight.
Together, they moved towards the other side of the bridge.
Daitoppa (Great Breakthrough) Rank: C Range: Close (0m ~ 5m), Mid (5m ~ 10m) Type: Offensive Handseals: 3 Chakra Consumption: Mid Daitoppa is a Ninjutsu technique which utilizes the Wind Element. After performing the necessary handseals, the user blows a single strong current of wind from their mouth, shaped like a cone. This technique carries an enormous amount of force and is capable of leveling anything it hits.
Last Edit: Dec 3, 2015 19:30:11 GMT -8 by Samanosuke
Missions || D - 8 || C - 76 || B - 16 || A - 1 || S - 0 ||
The earth abandoned us, and we for metal, found stolid, impregnable stillness replaced. It was bedlam that surrounded. The chaos of violent disputation, endued with what was its due—immediacy and ardor—blanketed lithe forms that glided softly. One traced movements through open emptiness, aligning fingers, tracing with celerity, harnessing force that willed destruction; the other, I, lent credence to the underworld. The void opened before my yearning—made itself mine. The world turned. It occurred as a length of deathly acuity pierced the air, covering itself in wind and forsaking tranquility for blood. My wind, my wand—of death, divine. It showered them, glowering, and gorged with a torturous, loathing love.
An expanse, fifteen meters in width and thoughtless in length, spread itself before me. My hand gripped a hilt of wyvern-bone, and its selfsame blade, suspended, pointed toward the cacophonous horde. The metallic structure rumbled in their clangorous havoc, mimicking the crashing and crowing evidenced throughout, and providing for spirit-divested bodies their final terminus.
Concord was nowhere, and in its absence death loomed, enveloping with robes of nothing. The fracas called to me, and with haste I replied. Motion, blurred space, proceeding, dashing, dividing. A second's worth of sand fell, and my gaze was locked onto one whose blade slid out from a falling other. What was distance metamorphosed, and my will was upon the one; he turned, and a duel between grace and uncouth inconstancy commenced. I was a hawk to his every movement, and an eagle through his mind. Each ungainly gesture I interdicted with elusion, acquainting myself with his motility, equanimous and patient, virulent and predatory. The glinting steel attached to his arm leapt at my throat. His furrowed brow counterposed my calm, which slid to the left of his stabbing, and made of it an abashed blunder. Even as his appendage propelled, my fingers, joined conterminously, flashed forward. They tapped gently at his elbow, suffusing it with an insidious chakra, and materially, deadening paralysis. Sweat dropped from disconcerted lineaments; the blade fell from his ailing grasp, colliding with the floor as mine dug inside. Blood spilled from his jugular. It seeped down from my entrenched armament; I came closer, my hilt beneath his chin, holding it high for my inspection. I parted his hair, tilting my head as our souls convened one last time. Repulsive. He dropped from me and onto the steel flooring, unheard and unnoticed amidst the discord.
Steel danced with steel in an affray reflecting our global situation—an internecine, infernal, carnage-rending bloodbath. It was here and everywhere, the tumultuous disarray. I’d discovered a halcyon quietude amidst the chaos, however; it sounded for me a beatific lullaby, ensorcelling, murmuring arcane truths. With death, life proceeded towards itself. And in its unfolding, becoming was forever and always.
Three more armed and armored prey were sighted as seconds clashed. I dove into the clamor.
1i Holy, (Hyūga T1 Mastery) — Miniscule. 2i Iaijutsu (Art of the Aware & Prepared), (B) — No Cost. Ch (i) 290. 1a ________ Ch (a) 200.
Post by Itō Ittōsai on Dec 7, 2015 11:48:32 GMT -8
In Itō's eyes, the battlefield was the lone figure standing amidst a swirling mass of debris. Whilst in reality several explosive tags had detonated admist the chaotic clash of the Shinobi and Samurai. Other duels began to spill outwards, however Itō only saw bright flashes in which he evaded with his trademark loose and aloof movements. With his free hand, Itō held up his middle and index finger. He mouthed the word "Two". Then with a swift pounce Itō once again clashed blades with the Samurai. In an attempt to show dominance, the Samurai took a two handed grip and pushed force from his legs and shoulders; a bout at outstrengthing Itō. Itō jokingly pulled his sword closer to himself, as if he was being pushed onto his hind legs. "Oohohohoohohoh, Samurai-Sama, s-s-s-spare me" Itō said in a mocking tone towards the Samurai. From beneath his helmet a scowl emerged, presumably one of frustration. A single thrust forwards alongside some foreign footwork and the Samurai found himself disarmed. "2-0. Pick up and I'll do the other three." The change in tone had dissappeared, it was now more controlled but still the absent-minded and airy voice he had always donned.